Stuff

A wooden duck. A tin man paddling a canoe. Photographs, a clock, a plate from China, a train set. They all mean something. They’re more than just material stuff. When I look at these things synapses fire, memories flood.

So much life was lived around them. Sometimes they participated…sometimes they stood watch. But always they were there. Together they weave a tapestry that tells the story of a life…my life, your life, anyone’s life. As the years go by, the things accumulate and the tapestry gets longer. Just as the story gets longer. Seeing the things freshens the memories… returning the color.

I have an old Thermos; Davy Crocket in a death fight with a bear and a bucket hat from the 1964 Worlds fair.  When I look at them, it’s igniting a series of memories; my father at the fair and the big fight over spelling my name wrong.  And second grade with Mrs. Stroller and what the hell ever happened to the matching lunch box?  For that matter whatever happened to Claudia, and Robert and Ricky and Cindi?

As we get older we need the tapestry more and more, it helps us remember our story. We can reach back to the past to bring warmth and happiness to the present.

So Kondo it,  if  you need to.  Do the Swedish Death Cleaning thing.  But don’t throw out your memories.  They are not just “things”; they are you.

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